


Virgil’s Okay (He’s Not. He’s Sick.)

by AdrianaintheSnow



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 0 tolerance policies are stupid, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Fighting, Gen, Sick Character, emotional child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianaintheSnow/pseuds/AdrianaintheSnow
Summary: Virgil got in a fight and now has to help the theater department set up for their next show. The problem, he’s really sick, but his dad thinks he’s just trying to weasel his way out of it.The prompt was Could you do 5 (“Would you stop it?  I know you’re faking it.”), 9 (“You’re shaking like a leaf!”) and 12 (“Don’t pay any attention, it’s all just dramatics.”) on the sick prompt list, but it’s Virgil angst/comfort? Like someone not believing he’s sick so he has to do stuff while he’s sick and one of the others notices? from the"Hurt / Comfort Sickfic Drabble Prompts list."
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 66
Kudos: 153





	Virgil’s Okay (He’s Not. He’s Sick.)

“Would you stop it?” Virgil’s dad snapped. Virgil flinched at the sharpness of his tone. “I know you’re faking it. You aren’t getting out of this.”

Virgil slumped down into his hoodie, unable to reply for fear of coughing again. As it was, his throat was tingling horribly. He was not at all faking this. He felt ready to fall over, but Dad wasn’t listening. They already didn’t get along at the best of times, and he’d been mad at Virgil ever since the fight last week and the subsequent suspension and mandatory community service to the school.

Virgil guessed he should have just let himself get beaten into the dirt instead of swinging back. Instead, he’d clocked the bastard that had attacked him and landed himself in the principal’s office instead of the hospital. This was, apparently, morally reprehensible.

The car parked in the mostly empty high school parking lot. Ugh. It should be a crime to make kids enter a school on a Saturday. Why did some people willingly do this again?

His dad got out of the car without a word and Virgil followed him. The world shifted a bit under his feet, but after a couple of moments to breath, things settled mostly. Don’t get him wrong, he still felt horrible, but the world was not spinning. His dad led him to the side entrance nearest the auditorium. There were already kids in the hallway chatting happily. Virgil did his best to avoid their eyes. They were probably wondering who this strange kid intruding on their fun activity was.

Dad led him past them and into auditorium. There were a few kids and an older man on the stage spreading out a bunch of cardboard onto the floor. Dad walked up to him.

“Hi,” Dad said. “Are you the person who needed more help with the set design for the musical?” he asked, even though that was pretty obvious. He looked up and came to the edge of the stage.

“I am,” he said. Virgil vaguely recognized him from the school hallway. His face was pretty much permanently pinched, and he tended to yell angrily at people from down the hallway, but he’d also heard he was nice most of the time if a little snippy during tech week. Of course, that was to the nice kids who wanted to be at his stupid set building days and didn’t punch other kids in the face. “I’m assuming you’re Virgil.”

Virgil nodded.

“Use your words, Virgil,” his dad said.

“Yes, sir,” he said. His voice sounded horrible and he couldn’t help but cough just a bit at the end.

He blinked down at him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Don’t pay any attention,” Dad sneered. “It’s all just dramatics. He’s been trying to get out of this all week.”

Great, now he was going to think he was a little shit who didn’t want to be here. Well, he didn’t want to be here, but that was more because he didn’t feel like he should be punished for not letting some asshole walk all over him.

His brow was pinched a bit, but he didn’t protest. “Why don’t you come up onto the stage,” he suggested. “The stairs are through that door.”

He nodded. “See you,” he said to his dad quietly and then rushed away towards the door. His dad had already turned and was walking away by the time he made it to where the other students were putting out all of the supplies.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

He cleared his throat a bit. “Fine,” he replied as steadily as he could.

He eyed him for a long moment. “Okay,” he said. “Well, I’m Mr. Lial. I’ll be in and out most of the day, but if you need me, feel free to ask Logan. He’s the stage manager and will be overseeing most of the set building.” He motioned over to a tall guy organizing some of the paintbrushes.

Virgil nodded and the teacher led him over to introduce him to Logan. He informed the boy that Virgil would be helping with set design but didn’t mention the fact that Virgil was here for a punishment, which Virgil was thankful for. Of course, he could already know, but it was still appreciated, and Logan didn’t seem to be treating him like a pariah yet, so that was good.

“What are your strengths?” Logan asked. “Would you rather work on moving things around as needed, sketching things out, or painting the large background colors for the sky and grass before details are added?”

“Uh,” Virgil said softly. He really didn’t want to be moving around much right now. “I’m not horrible at art,” he said. “I could probably do the sketching or the painting.”

“Hmm,” Logan said. “You can try the sketching and maybe detail work later if you have a steady hand.” Virgil nodded and he was handed a sheet of paper with what the set was supposed to hopefully look like as well as pencils and measuring equipment. Then, Logan led Virgil over to a giant piece of cardboard that had already been cut into a rough castle shape.

Working on drawing the windows and brick blocks on the castle was easy work, almost fun. He got lost in the slow methodical movements of sketching the design he was given onto the cardboard. He had to cough a couple of time, but mostly was able to smother the urge. Also leaning down made his nose run, but he was careful not to let anyone see him rub it with his hoodie sleeve. (It was gross, but he didn’t have any better options.) He finished the whole sketch by himself, but then the problem presented itself. Virgil tried to get up.

He’d been distracted by his task enough that he’d forgotten what it had felt like to get out of the car earlier and the second he pushed himself to his feet from the ground, he just about fell back over.

“Are you alright?” a boy, one of the ones who’d been painting the sky on a nearby piece asked.

“I,” Virgil said, feeling himself teeter back and forth and coughing. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t see how it had happened, but he blinked, and the next moment he’d ended up in someone’s arms. “Oh, honey,” the boy who’d caught him said. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“M’fine,” Virgil mumbled even as he leaned his head against the boy’s shoulder and closed his eyes in an attempt to stay upright.

“No, you’re not,” the boy said, rubbing his back. “Lo, come here.”

Virgil just focusing on breathing for the couple of seconds that it took the stage manager to walk across the stage. “Patton why are you hugging a stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger.”

“What’s his name.”

“Uh…”

“Virgil,” Virgil supplied into his shirt.

“He’s Virgil!” Patton said happily, but then his tone turned serious. “Virgil is sick.”

“I’m a‘right.” Virgil insisted.

The two of them did not bother to even respond to that. Probably because one of them was holding his entire weight by this point. A cold hand reached up to touch his forward and Virgil shivered.

“I’m getting Mr. Lial,” Logan’s voice said. “Sit him down and stay with him.”

“Kay,” Patton agreed. “Can you move, honey? There’s a chair a couple of feet to the left.”

“Yeah,” he said, not really sure if he meant it. Patton managed to half drag him over to the chair so he could sit and then shoved a bottle of water and a box of Kleenexs into his hand. Virgil wiped any residue snot off his face. Oh, god, he hoped he didn’t just ruin the practical stranger’s shirt by snotting all over it. Luckily, looking at it, it was already covered in paint, so it was probably fine. He took a drink of the lukewarm water which made his throat feel marginally better, but he still ended up in a coughing fit by the end of it. Patton rubbed his back gently through it. By the time his body finally calmed down, there was a pair of shoes in his vision.

“Is this what you call ‘okay’?” Mr. Lial asked, sounding a bit irritated.

Virgil sat up and squinted at him. “…Yes.”

Mr. Lial snorted in surprise. “Well,” he said. “I would not agree with you.”

“Okay?”

Mr. Lial shook his head. “Let’s get you laying down somewhere nice and dark,” he suggested, offering Virgil his hand.

“I’m fine,” Virgil said, even while taking it.

“I completely believe you,” Mr. Lial replied leading him off towards the side of the stage. “You’re perfectly well, surely.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...
> 
> Do not make an AU where a pack of feral drama students (and also teacher) adopt freshman art student Virgil, Adriana. You cannot.


End file.
